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In his lifetime, the prolific William Buckley, not known as a practitioner of brevity, published many millions of words: fifty books, plus thousands of columns, articles, and interviews. It will take more millions of words to sum up his life and work, which ended last week.

The blurb of his literary biography strains at the task. “Here is Buckley . . . the daring young political controversialist and enfant terrible . . . the editor of National Review . . . the founder of the modern conservative movement . . . the politician and mischievous humorist . . . the proud father and devoted husband . . . the spy and novelist of spies and Buckley, the yachtsman and bon vivant.” (One must add that Buckley was a devoted Catholic as well). Through it all, Buckley gleefully, immensely enjoyed himself – much to the discomfiture of his critics.

It all began with a blockbuster book: God and Man at Yale, written in his early twenties. When Buckley entered Yale after World War II, the university still claimed some commitment to the Christian faith or, at least, Christian ideals. Founded in 1701, the young college insisted that all students be taught Puritan theology and that all faculty and college officers subscribe to the Westminster Confession of Faith.

In the 1940s, Yale’s president, Charles Seymour, reminded the university of Yale’s heritage and called on it to “recognize the tremendous validity and power of the teachings of Christ in our life-and-death struggle against . . . selfish materialism.”

Seymour noted that “Yale was dedicated to the training of spiritual leaders. . . . The simple and direct way is through the maintenance and upbuilding of the Christian religion as a vital part of university life.”

After four years at Yale, Buckley had the gall to declare that nothing of the sort was happening there. He found the atmosphere at Yale suspicious and at times hostile to Christianity. The religious façade mainly served to please alumni and donors. Buckley urged that constituency to assert their values more directly by selective giving and by electing trustees who would lead religious revitalization.

“The methods he proposed for his alma mater are precisely those employed in Italy, Germany and Russia” [references to Mussolini, Hitler, and Stalin].
“Mr. Buckley’s aims can only be secured by fascist methods . . ..”
“I fail to see why God cannot take care of himself at Yale. . .. To me it is ridiculous to see little two-legged fanatics running around the earth, arguing in behalf of a Deity whom they profess to consider omnipotent.”
“This book . . . has the glow . . . of a fiery cross on a hillside at night. There will undoubtedly be robed figures who gather to it.”

Of course Buckley was absolutely right, not only about Yale but about a much broader spectrum of higher education. All but one of the Ivy League schools were founded by ardent Christians and dedicated to the spiritual development of future generations.

On the West Coast, even that mighty bastion of contemporary secularism, UC Berkeley, once embraced the Bible as God’s Word. Founded as the College of California by a Congregational minister, Henry Durant, the university motto proclaims, “Let there be light!” – a striking but ignored memory of the account of creation in Genesis.

Buckley once playfully suggested that Yale could cure its financial ills by turning itself over to the state of Connecticut, thus gaining support by tax dollars. Why not? he dared. He then answered his own question. “At Berkeley, [the] sense of mission is . . . diffuse and inchoate” and impossible to revive by public means. A private university just may recover its lost sense of mission. “That,” he concluded, “was what I was trying to say.

Gary Hardaway is executive director of Summit School of Ministry in Northwest Washington. He holds a Ph. D in foundations of education and is a member of the National Association of Scholars. He has taught in universities in the USA, Lithuania and Canada. "Real Answers™" furnished courtesy of The Amy Foundation Internet Syndicate. To contact the author or The Amy Foundation, write or E-mail to: P. O. Box 16091, Lansing, MI 48901-6091; amyfoundtn@aol.com

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